Light Up, Light Up
by Beloved-Stranger
Summary: "My uncle's in Washington.  I've got enough gas to get me there."  Kurt sees the uncertainty in Karofsky's face; he's going to blow over seven hours of gas to get to an unfamiliar city on the off chance that some part of his family still wants him.
1. Red Like a Marker

**Pairing(s):** Dave/Kurt is endgame… if I can ever get this fucker of a fic to behave.

**Rating:** PG, might change later

**Word Count:**

**Warnings:** Lol, my research for this thing sucks. We're flying by the seat of our red knickers people!

**Spoilers:** Let's go with up to _Sexy._

**CROSSOVER:** STARGATE, BABY. Spoilers up to the conclusion of Atlantis, totally ignoring the crap out of Universe, because I couldn't get into it and have not since bothered.

**FYI:** I'm an idiot. As if I don't have enough fics on the go already and an orignal novel to work on, I go and spawn this thing. What is wrong with me?

* * *

><p><em>There was a feeling the spirit was leaving<br>Red like a marker  
>So my tribe, with my knife<br>Cut the heart from a lonely life_  
>MGMT – Future Reflections<p>

The one person he doesn't expect to be waiting for him in the reception lobby is Dave Karofsky.

His dad, maybe, or Carole, or even Mercedes or Finn. Any of his former Glee-mates.

But not Dave Karofsky.

And yet that's exactly who _is_ there.

He's sitting on the left of the two leather sofas in the lobby with those broad shoulders hunched forward, curled and defensive. His hair and face and the shoulders of his jacket – which for once isn't his red letterman – are damp with rain. His eyes are red-rimmed from lack of sleep (or crying…?) and a there's a look on his face that Kurt doesn't recognize.

He looks resigned.

Kurt doesn't like this. Something is wrong here.

He stops at the doorway and says, before he can stop himself, "oh," the single, tiny word falling flat and disappointed.

Karofsky looks up at him then, and this is a look Kurt does know – hurt. He remembers it from that time in the locker room, and the memory curls his gut, twisting his insides. Then the look is gone, and the jock just goes back to resigned. Like it's his current default setting or something.

There's an uncomfortable pause. Kurt thinks, mentally rolling his eyes, that _of course_ he's going to have to be the one to break the ice, its not enough that the damned idiot's showed up at his school – his safe place – but he's going to be awkward about it as well –

"Um, hey," Karofsky mutters, and Kurt stares at him.

"What're you doing here?" he says, fighting the immediate urge to snap, because even though this is Dalton, and Josie the receptionist is just next door in the office, who knows what could happen if he sets Karofsky off? "I thought it was clear by now, I don't want you –"

"I get it," the other boy cuts across him, meeting his eyes. "I'm here to apologize."

Kurt goes still as stone. Honestly, it feels like his feet are rooted to the immaculate and shiny floorboards. He thinks his mouth might be hanging open.

Karofsky stands slowly, one hand staying on the sofa, and it looks a little like he's using it for support – like his legs might not bear his weight, and where the hell is Kurt's mind right now?

Clearly not connected to his mouth, because the icy tirade he had practiced for this exact situation refuses to make its way past his larynx. Instead, Karofsky starts speaking, and Kurt continues to be floored.

"I – I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. Not just what I did to you, even though that's the stuff I feel worst about… I'm sorry I ever slushied anyone, or shoved them around or called them… or called them a fag or a fairy or just… anything horrible."

He finds Kurt's eyes again, and really, that particular _look_, made up of the terrible vulnerability after the kiss and something new and unfamiliar – _empathy, Kurt's mind whispers, though he tries not to listen_ – is heartbreaking.

Kurt does not want to be moved by this.

But apparently the rest of his brain isn't taking requests anymore.

"I'm sorry I did all of that to you," Karofsky is saying with that _look_ on his face. "I'm sorry I did worse to you." Kurt is faintly appalled to realize he can hear the other boy's voice thickening with tears. "I'm – I'm sorry I kissed you and threatened you and stole from you. I'm sorry I made you scared." He looks down and away, letting out a small bitter laugh. "I'm not sorry about one thing though."

Kurt swallows hard, and manages to find his voice. "What's that?"

Karofsky darts a quick glance up and him. Kurt gets a brief glimpse of the sheen on his eyes before he looks down again.

"I'm not sorry that… I'm _glad_ it won't ever happen again."

Something about the wording and look on Karofsky's face sets of a warning bell at the back of Kurt's brain – that damned resigned look, the way he won't look at Kurt anymore…

"Why are you doing this?" Kurt asks. "Why now?"

The other boy actually looks thoughtful, like he's debating how much to tell Kurt. "Because this is the last chance I'll have."

_Oh god…_

Kurt's mind is going in all kinds of terrifying directions right now.

"Karofsky, what –?"

"They threw me out," Karofsky says flatly. His face had gone blank.

Kurt knows the mortification is showing on his face. "What?" he breathes again.

"I came out – I didn't even mean to, it just kind of slipped out, but… I _came_ out, they _threw_ me out and now I'm _getting_ out. Of Lima." He shrugs. "Of Ohio."

This is just… Kurt doesn't actually know how to deal with this. It's horrible, and at one point, for a bare moment, he understood that fear; the days leading up to him coming out to his dad were very nearly soul-crushing. He thought he'd lose the one thing he had left in his life, the last fragment of his family – but this is just so, so much worse. Karofsky had no lead up, no way to prepare himself or his family and now…

"I – I thought your dad was okay," Kurt stutters. "I mean he _seemed_ okay that time in Figgins office…"

"Some people are okay with it right up until it's their kid, Fancy," Karofsky tells him, then winces at the use of the old taunt. "And anyway, I'm fine. It's fine."

"It's not," Kurt says, but Karofsky either doesn't hear or pretends not to.

"I mean, I always wanted to get out of that town." He lets out another small bitter laugh. "Just never figured on it being like _this_." He gets up, resettles his coat, and Kurt knows that this could be the last time he'll ever lay eyes on Dave Karofsky.

"Wait," he finds himself saying, taking a few quick steps forward. "What're you going to do? Where are you going? I mean it's getting late, you can't just…"

Karofsky pauses, hands frozen in the act of turning up the collar of his coat. "My uncle's in Washington. I've got enough gas to get me there, so... yeah."

"Your uncle'll take you in?"

He can see the uncertainty in the bigger boy's face; Karofsky doesn't know, but he's going to blow over seven hours' worth of gas to get to an unfamiliar city on the off chance that some part of his family still wants him. The worst part is that under the uncertainty he can see the stubborn clench of Karofsky's jaw, and knows he won't be able to dissuade the other boy – and besides, what other option could he offer that Karofsky would take?

"Its fine," he says again, and turns to go.

Kurt wants to say, "Wait," again, but the word sticks in his throat and his head hurts. He reaches out instead, to the other boy's turned back, aborting the gesture before Karofsky sees.

"Good luck," he says instead, wrapping his arms around himself.

Karofsky pauses, looks back at him over his broad shoulder. "Yeah," he says, and Kurt tries not to notice how rough his voice is, "you too."

He stands in the lobby, very still, until Karofsky has left and is no longer visible through the stained glass panes in the big front doors.

Then he turns away, and walks numbly to Blaine's room. Blaine is alone there tonight, his roommate somewhere or other and Kurt really doesn't care… He looks up when Kurt lets himself in and smiles.

"You know, usually, it's customary to knock but… Kurt?" The smile fades. "Kurt, are you… what happened?"

Kurt doesn't say anything, but when Blaine puts his arms around him he finally starts to feel safe and warm again… and then he's crying, _shaking_ with the force of it, and can't think why.

* * *

><p>It was stupid – <em>monumentally<em> stupid – but Dave drove through the night, and now that he's on his uncle's doorstep (or rather in yet another rich but tastefully appointed lobby), it's just past two in the morning, and he's ready to collapse and possibly suffering from some kind of mental hysteria.

The night-watch guy at the desk, or whatever he is, is staring at him, radiating disapproval and looks _thisclose_ to throwing him out. He's already rung up to Uncle Jack's apartment twice, and Dave knows that unless the third time really is the charm, he's going to be sleeping in his car tonight.

"Please…" Dave says, and the night-watch guy purses his prissy mouth.

"It's ringing," he snaps. Then, "Mr. O'Neill? I'm very sorry to bother you, but… Yes, I know what time it is, but I assure you… I am sorry, sir, but there's… I understand, but there's someone here to see you." He puts his hand over the mouthpiece and, giving Dave a serious hairy eyeball, asks, "Who are you?"

"Dave," says Dave. "I'm his nephew."

Night-watch guy looks doubtful, but dutifully relays this to Uncle Jack. There's a pause in which Uncle Jack replies, then night-watch's eyebrows go in search of his hairline and he says to Dave to "go right on up," and buzzes him through the brass trellis that divides the main lobby from a bank of elevators.

He gets out on the seventh floor and finds Jack waiting for him there, wearing a set of Air Force sweats and a crotchety expression. His hair is all over the place, as usual, and he's barefoot on the lush cream carpet. It's weird seeing Uncle Jack in a place like this; Dave grew up watching him move through settings like the cabin in Minnesota and the leafier suburbs of Colorado Springs.

"Hi," Dave says, suddenly at a loss, and stops just in front of the elevator.

"'Hi'?" Jack repeats, looking caught between peeved and puzzled. He retrieves Dave from his spot by the elevators, grabbing his duffle bag and herding him into the apartment. "Kid, do you know what time it is? Do your mom and dad know you're here?"

The reminder of his parents drains something out of him. Shoulders slumped, he mutters, "No. Not that they care."

He regrets the comment immediately; Jack is frowning, worried. "Dave. Kiddo. What's going on?"

Dave sits, or rather, drops onto his uncle's swanky blue couch. Jack lowers himself slowly into the matching armchair opposite. He looks more awake now; dark eyes alive with caution and curiosity. And concern.

It's the concern that does it. For the third time that night, Dave blurts his big secret and waits for an explosion.

"I'm gay."

Jack looks nonplussed. "Uh, okay."

Now Dave is nonplussed. "O-okay?" he echoes. "That's – that's it? That's all you're going to say?"

"You were expecting something else?" Jack asks, an inquisitive eyebrow going up.

"N-no, I just…" Oh, God, please, no. "I…" He's going to…

Jack's face softens. He rubs a calloused hand through his silver hair and sighs, resting his chin on his fist.

"Dave," he says gently, "why're you here, kiddo?"

Dave stares hopelessly back. "They kicked me out." And then he drops his face into his hands and can't hold it back anymore.

In the following storm of sobs – deep, wracking, body-shaking sobs – Dave hears Jack murmur, "Christ," before the couch dips next to him and a strong, wiry arm goes around his shoulders.

Jack doesn't say anything, doesn't make any promises, but the strength of the embrace never wavers and Dave finally finds something to anchor him after spending the last year lost at sea.

* * *

><p>Jack spends the next morning reorganizing his day, taking some emergency leave and getting the run down on something called pee-flag from one of the secretaries. Adelaide is a tiny human whirlwind of vital, <em>vital<em> information that Jack simply _must_ have, and he's beginning to realize why Col. Adshell always looks so harassed.

"Is he awake yet?" she demands.

"Nah, thought I'd let him sleep in. He had a late one last night, y'know?"

"Don't let him stay in bed all day," she tells him. "He'll stew in his own juices and make himself miserable. Get him up, fed, and keep him occupied."

"Occupied?"

"You know; just do things that he likes doing, spend time with him. Show him the city or something. Talk to him, but let him come to you with what happened at home. He came to you for help, so chances are he wants to tell you, but let it be when he's in the right headspace, alright?"

"Right." Jack takes a breath. He can do this. For all that he was fond of avoiding his own mental… issues, he's usually been on the ball about taking care of his team. His _former_ team.

God, he needs to call them. Addie's advice is all well and good, but… maybe this would be easier if he weren't doing it alone. He thinks of Sam, missing her fiercely, and rubs a thumb over the gold band on his left ring finger. Dave always liked spending time with Sam whenever his family visited Jack and she happened to come over.

"General," Addie is saying stridently, "are you listening?"

"Yeah!" Jack starts. "Yeah, I'm… I'm listening." He scrubs a hand over his face. "Sorry. S'been a long week, Addie."

"I know," Addie says, sympathetic. "Look Lily's cleared your schedule for the next week –"

"How the hell did she manage that?"

Addie laughs. "We have our ways. Look, just focus on David, alright? Treat him like you've always treated him, but just be aware, alright? You'll be fine."

"Yeah, thanks, Addie. Tell Lily 'thank you' from me."

They hang up, and Jack just stands in his stupidly fancy kitchen for a few moments. It's just past ten now, so he pulls out the ceramic pans Lily got him and always raves about and starts throwing together some breakfast. When the room is filled with the scent of frying bacon and hash-browns, Dave stumbles in, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

He looks a little better than he did last night; flushed with sleep instead of exhausted and pale. His hair is sticking up on one side, which makes Jack smile. Dave gets those dark curls from Jack's side of the family and he thinks with a pang that he's going to have to call Kathy and read his sister the riot act. What the _hell_ were she and Paul thinking, turning their only boy out just because of…?

"Hungry?" Jack asks, and is relieved when Dave nods and settles at the small kitchen table.

Jack serves up two plates of shoulder bacon, hash-browns and scrambled eggs on toast, and because breakfast is the one meal he can do well (or at all) the eggs are fluffy and the rest is crispy-but-not-burnt. He watches Dave tuck in with familiar gusto and goes about eating his own a little slower. His nephew gets about halfway through his meal before slowing and then stopping completely.

"I'm sorry," he says thickly, "about last night, I – I shouldn't have – I just… I should've called you first, but I wasn't…thinking."

"Dave," Jack tells him. "Kiddo, you got nothing to be sorry for. A call woulda been nice, but you're here and you're safe and that's what I care about. Got it?"

The kid smiles for the first time since he got here, and Jack smiles back. They resume eating – or in Dave's case inhaling – their breakfast. When Jack's putting their dishes in the sink, Dave asks a question that's been worrying Jack since the words, 'they kicked me out' came out of the boy's mouth.

"Uncle… What's going to happen to me?"

Jack heaves a bit of a sigh and stands by the sink, crossing his arms. He meets Dave's eyes squarely though and asks, "What do you want to happen?"

Dave looks startled, like choices of any kind are unexpected and unfamiliar. "I…I wanna go home but…" His shoulders slump. "I know that's not an option."

Jack nods. "I know. Okay, so, option two?"

Dave looks at a loss.

"Right." Jack makes a decision, but keeping it to himself says, "Go wash up and get dressed. We're going out."

"…We are?"

"Yup. Since you've finally come to see me, might as well show you the city," he teases, smiling.

Dave smiles, still uncertain though.

Jack puts a hand on his shoulder. "Look, just give your brain the day off, okay? Maybe have a think about what you wanna do, but… Relax, kiddo. Whatever happens, we'll make sure it works for you."

Dave searches his face, looking heartbreaking unsure, before turning his gaze to his feet and swallowing hard. "Thanks, Uncle Jack," he says, voice rough.

Jack half-smiles. "Yeah-sure-you-betcha."

* * *

><p><strong>SOS GUYS:<strong> Any tips of writing Azimio? He's showing up next chapter and I _need_ to get a clue.


	2. Everything to Lose

**Pairing(s):** Dave/Kurt is endgame… if I can ever get this fucker of a fic to behave.

**Rating:** PG, might change later

**Word Count:** 2,779

**Warnings:** Lol, my research for this thing sucks. We're flying by the seat of our red knickers people!

**Spoilers:** Let's go with up to _Sexy._

**CROSSOVER:** STARGATE, BABY. Spoilers up to the conclusion of Atlantis, totally ignoring the crap out of Universe, because I couldn't get into it and have not since bothered.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2? – Everything to Lose**

_Don't you know you're such a fool  
>To keep on acting like you do<br>You're a fool to play things cool  
>When you've got everything to lose<br>_22-20s – Such a Fool

They spend the day touring DC. Jack takes him to the Lincoln Memorial first, and the sheer size of the thing – the…the _magnificence_ – is enough to boot anything else out of his head for a while. The steps and courtyard are already filling up with wandering tourists, but Abe sits resplendent and solemn above them all, gazing out at the world in a well of eternal calm.

Dave lets himself be enveloped in that aura of ease and certainty and smiles more than he has in the past three months. He's never been effected by art like this, and as new experiences go it's one of the nicer ones.

In the National War Memorial, Jack shows him where to find 'David O'Neill' cut into the dark stone. Dave traces the name, seeing his own face reflected behind it. He's seen photos of this other David; Jack and his mother's older brother, who died decades before he was born.

Beside him, his uncle has his hands jammed in his pockets and a small, sad smile on his face. "You look a lot like him, y'know," he says.

"I know," he says quietly. "There are photos at… at home."

Jack puts a bracing arm around his shoulders. "C'mon. There's a pizzeria Danny and I go to that does a pepperoni just like they do in Chicago."

While Dave hoovers up his lunch, Jack fills him in on the 'family' back at the Springs. Daniel is abroad, as usual, though he's due back on leave next month. Murray – his uncle's strange, foreign friend obsessed with hats – was in town a few days ago and caught up with him. He's apparently getting more sedate in his choice of headgear and Jack tells Dave he almost misses the red cowboy hats and pompom beanies. Cassie is enjoying married life (read: ordering Carl around while he takes leave and plays temporary house-husband) and working on her Masters at UCCS.

"Child psyche," Jack says, between one slice and the next. "Doing a study on high school students, so don't let her head-shrink you when you see her. She's worse than Sam; pair of 'em are always bringing work home with them."

Dave grins. Aunt Sam and Uncle Jack have known each other almost as long at Dave's been alive. Dave knows they worked together for almost a decade before Sam ducked out of Jack's chain of command and they started a brief, long-distance courtship. They'd still had to get a dispensation to get married though, which was lucky, because now Sam was back in the chain of command. Dave was glad they'd got together; he'd always liked Sam, who spoke to him like he was a grown-up and used jokes to explain math problems.

One of his favourite childhood memories is Jack showing up to Christmas lunch on the back of Sam's vintage Harley. There's a photo of Sam sitting on the bike with Dave, then seven, perched pillion behind her. It always made Azimio laugh when he saw it – said Dave was starting his career in badassery early or something.

Like kismet, his phone went off, blaring the 22-20s from his jacket pocket. It's the tone he uses for the guys on the team.

Dave's stomach drops.

"Um, Uncle…"

Jack looks up, then frowns when he catches sight of Dave's face. "What's up, kiddo?"

"I, uh… I'm just gonna step outside. I gotta take this."

His uncle studies him for a minute, then nods. "Stay where I can see you."

"Yeah." He gets out of the pizzeria and tries to focus on breathing as he pulls out his phone and checks the number.

'Azimio'.

Crap.

He's been hoping it would take a little longer for this call to come…

He hits the answer button and –

"MAN! What the hell is wrong with you!" Zee explodes on the other end of the line, and Dave fights a smile, listening to his friend work himself into full flight. "You skip out and don't tell me? Leavin' me here in this HOLE while you off cruisin' or somethin'? NOT COOL. I can't even believe you right now. Ditcher. I should disown you."

He winds down sounding kind of sulky. Dave would laugh, but the word 'disown' is cutting close to the bone right now, and he actually feels a little sick. He swallows hard and tries to find his voice. He wants to be cool about this…

"I'm sorry, Zee. I, uh, shoulda called, I know," he croaks out.

…well, that's a fail.

Zee is weirdly quiet for few seconds. "Dude," he says after a beat, "you okay? You don't sound too good."

"Uh, yeah…" Dave leans back against the shop front and braces himself. "Something I gotta tell you. I, um, got kicked out last night."

"…_what_?"

"I got kicked out. Of… of my house."

"YOU WHAT?"

"I'm in Washington, with my uncle."

"WASHINGTON? What, RIGHT NOW?"

Dave gets the strangest feeling that if this were a text conversation Zee would be seriously abusing capslock right now.

"Yeah," Dave sighs, "Washington, DC. Right now."

"I can't freakin' believe what I'm hearin'," Zee mutters. "D, this doesn't make any sense. Why the hell would your folks kick you out? You mom and dad are awesome!"

"Yeah, well, clearly not _that_ awesome," Dave says, voice low as he scuffs his toe against the pavement.

Zee sounds honestly puzzled, and that's the only reason Dave doesn't freak out and hang up on him. "Dude," he says, "what did you _do_?"

Dave's heart pounds and he really does feel like he's gonna hurl now. "I – I – Zee, look I'm not really ready to talk about it."

"'scuse me?" He does not sound impressed, and Dave's right there with him, really but…

But…

"_I knew it was contagious. You moved in with that little Kurt kid and now you've got a bad case of the gay."_

And Dave suddenly hates – _hates_ – that he can't tell how his best friend is going to react to Dave being gay. This should be _easy_. This should be cut and dried. Damn it, he _knows_ Zee, knows all about him… why can't he know this thing too?

He hangs his head, crushes his eyes closed. Prays. Swallows down the nausea. _Please, please, please…_

"Zee, you really have to listen to me on this, okay?"

Zee sounds even more puzzled now. "Yeah, okay."

"I'm serious."

Zee laughs a little. "I get it, man."

"No, I mean, I'm _really_ serious here, Zee. I'm only gonna tell you if you promise not to be a total douche-canoe about it."

"…douche-canoe?"

"You know what I mean!"

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, so, what – should I get the good book and solemnly raise my right hand here?"

Dave closes his eyes again. "Just promise, alright?"

"…you're really serious." Something must have shown in his voice, because Zee sounds hesitant now, like it's _really_ hitting him now.

"Jesus Christ, Zee, I got kicked outta home," Dave snaps, "of course I'm goddamn serious."

"Alright, alright, I get it. I promise." There's a beat, then, "So, what is it?"

Dave's skin is flashing hot and cold and the hand not holding his phone is trembling. He's still trying to think of a way to lead up to it when his mouth has other ideas and goes for what's becoming his signature blurting move.

"I'm gay."

"Very freakin' funny. Now c'mon, man, tell me what the hell is going on."

"I just did."

"What? No, you said…"

There is a horribly, _horribly_ long pause, in which Dave can only hear the rushing of his own blood in his ears and the faint suggestion of Zee's breathing on the other end of the line.

Then Zee says, "I gotta go."

"Zee, wait a sec, I can expl–"

"No, I just – man, I – I gotta go."

"Zee –"

The line goes dead.

Dave's knees fail and he slides down the shop front until his butt hits pavement. He closes his eyes, and doesn't open them until he feels Jack's hand on his shoulder.

* * *

><p>The Smithsonian is like nothing Dave's ever seen before. The museums in Lima and Columbus or <em>anywhere else<em> that he's been could ever hold a candle to this.

He follows Jack through the open mall wing of Air and Space and reads the plaques beside each exhibit, listening to Jack's personal stories about some of the military craft they come across. Dave's favourite story is of when Jack brought his old team here and showed Murray the scale replica of the Star Trek Enterprise – and how disappointed he was that Star Wars had not been 'similarly honoured'.

Jack keeps things light, but sometimes Dave catches him glancing at Dave like he wants to ask, or he's waiting for Dave to say something.

Dave, however, it's doing his damnedest to forget that phone call ever happened. He wants more than anything to pretend that he's just here for a day or a week or something, just vacationing with his favourite uncle for a while and when it ends – when it ends he gets to pack his stuff and go _home_…

He breaks down once in the bathroom halfway through the afternoon. There's no one else there, just him and the mirror that he can't bring himself to look at, and he feels hot all over before his knees threaten to go again and his hands clench on the lip of the sink.

"_I gotta go."_

"_Zee, wait a sec, I can expl–"_

"_No, I just – man, I – I gotta go."_

"_Zee –"_

_Click._

The sound that comes out of him isn't so much a sob as a cough and he lets it out, and the one after it, and the one after that before taking a huge, gasping breath. He sighs it out slowly, closing his eyes and just breathing for moment. His chest unclenches. He takes a few moments to clean up, thankful there were no tears, and gets out just as Jack is coming to look for him.

"Took your time," he says lightly. "Feeling okay?"

Dave nods, not trusting himself to speak and, mercifully, Jack doesn't push the issue. He just gives him another one of those considering looks. "Alright. One last place to go before we start thinking about dinner, okay?"

Dave nods again. "Okay."

It's not what he's expecting.

"…The zoo?"

"Heck yeah the zoo," Jack says, grinning. Dave can't help but grin back.

And it's fantastic, really. Dave hasn't been to a zoo since he was about thirteen – which Jack thinks is a crime – and something about wandering around all the kid-friendly exhibits, watching the animals do their thing and watching all the manic kids freak out over how awesome the animals are is just… nice. The concerns of animals are smaller, easier to be party to, and Dave does what Jack told him to at breakfast and lets his brain take the day off. It helps that he doesn't want to think about what happened at home, or what happened with Zee at lunch. Instead, he wants to think about whether that hippo is going to surface anytime soon, or how a panda is related to a raccoon, or what kind of cosmic joke spawned the platypus, or _who the hell taught the blue macaw to swear in Russian_.

Then he wonders how much trouble they could get in for teaching the bird how to curse in Latin.

"You speak Latin?" Dave asks, because, really, Jack doesn't seem the type.

Jack grins nostalgic and a little smug. "Long, classified story."

They wander for a while and end up on the Elephant Trail, watching an elderly female go about her day – which apparently consists of playing one-on-one soccer with her keeper. He and Jack lean against the railing and spend a good five minutes putting together a set of rules for a theoretical game of elephant soccer. It's easy, and then Dave opens his mouth.

"Uncle?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"I know you said to take the day off..."

Jack turns to look at him then. "Figure that's what you've been doing."

He smiles. "Yeah, yeah I have, but I just – I'm still worried about what's going to happen. To me. After today."

Jack nods. "Thought you might be." He sighs. "Look, this is all up to you, and I get that it's a big thing to decide, but I've been doing some thinking of my own, and if you wanna hear 'em, I've got some options."

Dave is a little startled, but nods. "Okay."

"Okay. Welp, you know you're welcome to stay here. There's inner city schools you could go to, if you don't want to go back to McKinley...?"

Dave looks down at his hands. "It doesn't really feel like an option."

"Yeah. Well, you could go to school here..."

"Or?"

"Or... Or you could go to school in Colorado Springs."

Dave can feel his face fall. "You'd send me away?"

"What? No! You actually think I'd – goddamn it, Dave." Jack sighs, but he's smiling. "Kid, look, I've been looking for an excuse to get outta here for the past three years. I mean I'm not exactly getting any younger and only seeing Sam and Cass and everyone once in a freakin' blue moon is ridiculous." He turns back to the elephantine soccer game. "Thinkin' of retiring."

Dave freezes. He's pretty sure his mouth is hanging open. No one in Dave's family knows exactly what Jack does at the Pentagon, but they know it's important. Important enough to mean he has meetings with the _President_.

"Wh-what?"

"Yeah," Jack says nonchalantly, "DC's great and all, but y'know..." He turns to look at Dave again. "The school Cassie went to is in the 'Springs. You could go there."

But... but, the _President_!

"Y-you're serious?" Dave stammers.

Jack is nonplussed. "You think I'd joke about this?"

"No, but..." Dave whispers, "But what about the President?"

Jack looks amused. "What about him?"

"Don't... I mean, isn't what you do really important or something? Doesn't he, like, need your help or something?"

Jack looks like he wants to laugh. "Kid, seriously, the President's a smart guy – I mean I actually voted for this one. Pretty sure he can find someone else to do what I do. It could take a while, but you could get settled in the Springs while I finish up here. Cass and Carl would be happy to have you. I know they'd love the help with Nyla."

Jack smirks and Dave flushes. Nyla Fraiser-Groban is two and worships the ground Dave walks on. He thinks she's pretty cool too, for someone who still wears diapers.

"Yeah, I guess," Dave says. "But still, I mean... isn't it, like, a big deal for you to retire?"

Jack looks somehow thoughtful and frustrated at the same time, but Dave knows it's not directed at him.

"It is," Jack concedes. "It is, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna do the job for the rest of my life. They need to learn to get on without me. And there are a few people I've got my eye on to fill my very shiny shoes. Like I said, could take a while, but it's gonna happen."

When he meets Dave's gaze his dark eyes are intent.

"But this is just an option, Dave. You don't have to go to school there. We can stay in DC."

It's tempting. DC is huge, and amazing, and maybe in the long run it would be an easier place to be... himself. He could be open about his sexuality like he never felt he could in Lima. He wonders if he could do that in Colorado Springs, an Air Force town because of the base at Cheyenne Mountain and the Academy there.

Dave's been in denial for a while about who he is, but even he knows about Don't Ask, Don't Tell. He knows that the laws around it are changing, but selfishly, that's not what he's worried about; he's not going to join up, but he will have to live around people who have and deal with their attitudes. Jack's attitude isn't typical... but then Jack's not exactly a typical military man, and neither are the 'Springs family a typical military family.

The 'Springs family.

And all said and done, this is what decides him.

"No," he says to Jack, "I think we should do it. I think... I think we should move."

Jack grins at him, slinging a wiry arm around his neck with a laugh. Dave is unable to stop smiling. Jack's sudden exuberance is contagious.

"Alright," he says, "let's get this show on the road."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Continuing Excuse for Her Behaviour: <strong> I know it took awhile, but to be fair, my godson is only just four weeks old, and I'm more interested in baby cuddles XD. Also, thanks to my beta Binka, who gave this a once over, but it should be noted is not up to date on Glee and I'm not sure how up to date she is on SG, so bear with us.


	3. But I Won't Go

**Pairing(s):** Dave/Kurt is endgame… if I can ever get this fucker of a fic to behave.

**Rating:** PG, might change later

**Word Count:** (this chapter) 3,925

**Warnings:** Lol, my research for this thing sucks. We're flying by the seat of our red knickers people!

**Spoilers:** Let's go with up to _Sexy._

**CROSSOVER:** STARGATE, BABY. Spoilers up to the conclusion of Atlantis, totally ignoring the crap out of Universe, because I couldn't get into it and have not since bothered.

* * *

><p><em>But I won't go<em>_  
><em>_I can't do it on my own__  
><em>_If this ain't love, then what is?__  
><em>_I'm willing to take the risk  
><em>Adele – He Won't Go

Cassie arrives on Sunday, barrelling through Washington National's arrivals hall with Nyla on her hip and a smile a mile wide. Carl follows in her wake, dragging a suitcase and with a backpack over one shoulder and a diaper bag on the other. He's smiling too, albeit a little more tiredly.

Nyla, for her part, very nearly bounces our of her mother's arms, determined to get to Dave at all costs. Dave takes her, slipping into sitter mode without thinking; tickling her ribs and blowing raspberries on her fat cheeks. Nyla is delighted and fastens onto Dave with a death-grip.

Carl starts laughing. "Oh, yeah, we're definitely taking you home with us."

"As if we wouldn't," Cass says, hugging Dave while he holds Nyla and kissing both his and her daughter's cheeks.

Dave blushes the colour of beetroot and buries his face in Nyla's sandy curls. When he catches Cassie's gaze she smiles and touches his burning face.

Dave feels silly all of sudden, because of course they wouldn't say no.

They're his family.

* * *

><p>Dave's spent all of three days in DC and already the apartment is beginning to feel... not like home, but pleasantly familiar. Safe. It's how he thinks of Uncle Jack's cabin in Minnesota as well, but with less mosquitoes and more air conditioning.<p>

With the Fraiser-Groban contingent staying, Dave moves into the smaller of the two guest bedrooms to give them room for Nyla's cot.

"She sleeps with the side down now," Cassie says proudly, "don't you, sweetheart?"

"Chicken," Nyla offers, holding up one of the little plastic birds from her Duplo set.

Cassie grins. "Yeah, that's a chicken. Hey, who's this?" She holds up a little Duplo boy with brown hair and a red shirt.

(In the kitchen, the phone is going.)

"Dave!" shrieks Nyla.

(They hear Jack pick up and start talking.)

Dave rolls his eyes, trying not to be pleased. "Really, Cass?"

"What?" Cassie says, still grinning. "Look, it's the spitting image –"

"That's not an excuse, Kathy!" Jack snarls from the kitchen.

Nyla sinks into Dave's chest, tucking herself under his arm while Cassie sits up, her face solemn. Carl has stuck his head around the bedroom door, frowning.

"What's going on?" he asks softly.

"Jack's on the phone with Aunt Kathy," Cassie murmurs. "Carl, could you...?"

"Yeah." Carl takes Nyla from Dave, and he immediately misses the toddler's warm weight in his arms. She watches them over her father's shoulder as she is carried down the hallway to Dave's bedroom, which is furthest from the kitchen.

In the aforementioned kitchen, Jack is giving Dave's mother a piece of his mind.

"He's your son, Katherine, what the hell would possess you to –? Oh, 'the Bible says'? _Really?_ That's the cop-out you're using? ...I don't give a damn about the freaking book, Kathy, your family is more important than a bunch of words written by a pack of shepherds thousands of year ago – I'm doing this _for_ my family! This is what families should do for each other not turf out their kids just because of – GOD DAMN IT, KATHERINE O'NEILL, THIS IS NOT HOW MOM RAISED US!"

Dave gets up and follows Carl and Nyla to his bedroom.

* * *

><p>It's a good twenty minutes before they hear Jack ring off with a snapped, "shove it where the sun don't shine, Katherine" loud enough for them to hear in Dave's room.<p>

Carl quietly thanks God-or-whoever that Nyla conked out ten minutes ago and shows no sign of waking. "Kid could sleep through a nuclear war," he says fondly, rubbing the toddler's shoulders. She's sprawled over her dad's chest, and Carl is sprawled on the floor, his back to wall below the window. Dave sits opposite him, leaning against the side of his bed.

Both of them go quiet when they hear Cassie and Jack talking in the lounge. Jack sounds frustrated and his answers to Cassie's quiet questions are gruff and short. He's clearly upset, and Dave wants to sink into the floor for doing this to his family.

Displaying the same bizarre mind-reading capabilities that Jack appears to possess (which explains why he's the only one of Cassie's boyfriends not get the shotgun threat), Carl lays a hand on his shoulder and says, "Hey, you know this isn't your fault, right?"

Dave shakes his head miserably. "It is. I mean if I hadn't... if I wasn't..."

"I can't believe you're making me say it, dude," Carl sighs, sounding kinda put-upon but mostly just resigned. "Okay, Dave, look; when I enlisted, I was pretty representative of the majority of guys who enlist. I was okay with chicks joining up, but I secretly hoped I wouldn't get stuck working with one of them. I was okay with dudes being gay, but not in front of me and not in the Air Force, because that crap made me awkward." He shook his head. "I thought I was an okay guy."

Dave's eye brows go up. Even he knows that kinda crap does not an okay guy make. "Uh, yeah-_nah_. What happened?"

Carl grinned. "I met Jennifer Hailey. And man, that chick doesn't quit. If you ever have any doubts about girls getting their badass on, just give her the side-eye and see what happens."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. I lost count of the number of times Jen gave me the smackdown in hand-to-hand. She stuck up for the other girls there, too. Nearly got expelled for cracking some idiot in the face when he insulted a girl for being stocky. And when we graduated it was awesome to serve with her. She took everything I'd thought about women in being weaker and blasted it to smithereens."

Dave thinks of Santana Lopez, but he remembers that she's never really stuck up for anyone but herself and Brittany Pierce...

Then he thinks of Mercedes Jones – even when he had been terrorizing Kurt, he'd never done it when Mercedes was around on the off chance that his gut reaction to her was right and she did break his nose in three places. Looking back, he wishes he'd been a little stupider back then and had let her catch him being a dick to Kurt. Maybe after she'd put the fear of God in him he would've seen sense sooner.

"So you were okay with chicks in the military or whatever," Dave says. "What about the whole being okay with gays?"

Carl looks down at Nyla, smoothing the little girl's hair back from her face as she grumbles in her sleep.

"I wasn't for a long time. It wasn't something that came up a lot at the Cheyenne Mountain base when I worked there, and I avoided it when it did at the Academy. Only I kind of couldn't avoid it with Cass. She was president of the GLBTSA club at UCCS while she was doing her bachelors. When she saw me getting cagey when she was talking about stuff to do with the club, she dragged me to one of the meetings and..." Carl shrugs. "I mean, they were just a bunch of people. No one was trying to shove their ideals down my throat, or get on my case for being in the military, or hit on me. But, you wanna know the real reason I got over myself?"

Dave nods. He really does; part of it is because he only really knows Carl as an adjunct to Cassie and Nyla. His knowledge of the guy is superficial and it'd be nice to know him better seeing as he's going to be living with him for however long. But another part of him... another part of him that he's not ready to admit to thinks that Carl's answer might give him some clue to getting his parents to let him come home – getting them to understand that he's still _Dave_. He's still their kid.

Carl offers him a lop-sided smile. "In the end it was all Cass. I mean, she's a force of nature, y'know? And I care about her more than I ever cared about my dumb-ass latent homophobia. She basically laid down the law; either I took a good look at myself and figured out how to be a better person or I could go on being a crappy one without her."

Dave deflates a little. Carl made the decision his parents don't seem capable of; choosing to change themselves and their point of view for love of someone. He sighs. "Yeah, so, what's your point?"

Carl gives him a knowing smile. "My point, Dave, is that there's one fact that really flipped the light switch on for me. Cass told me that _being gay isn't a choice, the choice is whether to acknowledge it or not_. You didn't actually have a choice in this, kiddo. You would've told your parents or they would have found out, but it would've happened eventually. You didn't choose to be gay, but they chose to be dicks about it. They're choosing to react like it's something you've done to them, instead of realizing this is just part of who you are."

He touches Dave's arm, making sure to meet his eyes. What Dave sees there makes his stomach swoop and his throat close.

"Dave, we've made the choice to help you, because we all care about you. No part of this is on you, kiddo. This is on your parents, and on us." He gives Dave's shoulder a little shake. "Stop hittin' yourself, dude."

Its startles a laugh from Dave and Carl smiles again.

"Dave?"

They look up to see Cassie and Jack standing in the doorway.

"What're you guys doing on the floor?" Cassie asks, puzzled.

"I don't have any chairs," Dave says.

Cassie shrugs and curls up next to him, leaning back against the bed and looking expectantly up at Jack.

"Not gonna happen," Jack says. "Not with these knees."

"Oh, c'mon," Cassie wheels. "Me and Dave can help you up later if you're feeling decrepit."

Jack gives her the stink eye – "Not helping, Cass" – but goes and sits next to Carl under the window, groaning when his knees crack.

Cassie snickers. Carl and Dave know better.

There's a pause as they all look at each other, trying to figure out where to start, before Dave's blurting reflex kicks in – god_damn_ it, he's got to do something about that – and he asks quietly, "so, what did Mom say?"

Jack sighs and does that thing where he scrubs a hand over his hair. "Nothing nice. Christ, nothing good."

"Well, don't go sugar-coating it or anything," Cassie remarks dryly. Dave feels her slip her hand into his, grip strong and unyielding.

Jack rolls his eyes. "Not planning to. And fer cryin' out loud, the only useful thing that came out of her mouth was that she's sending some of your stuff to me, Dave."

"Stuff?"

"Papers, you know?" Jack says, flapping a hand. "Birth certificate, some school stuff, medical stuff, passport, blah blah blah. That kinda...stuff."

Dave looks down at his feet, swallowing. "So, this is all...permanent." It's not a question, but it feels like one, and Jack answers with a soft 'yeah.'

"I know it feels crappy," Cassie says, squeezing his hand. "But it'll make the move to the 'Springs easier in the long run."

Dave nods, and he's happy, kinda, that they (he) aren't going to have to call up and ask for all that crap. He's happy that it'll make getting settled at his new school smoother. He is, really.

But yeah, it feels...permanent.

It feels like forever. And forever is...forever is a long time.

* * *

><p>Things happen quite quickly after that.<p>

That afternoon, Cassie calls McKinley to let them know that Dave won't be coming back and requesting a copy of his school transcripts. It brings a few things into perspective for Dave. Things like, by now, Azimio will have had time to lament Dave's betrayal to the rest of the team. Finn and the rest of the Glee kids will know...and Dave realizes now that however he derided them for everything he and Zee could think of, he doesn't _know_ them. He doesn't know how they'll react, who they'll tell, what they'll think... He's not even sure why it matters to him anymore; it's not like he's going back there.

But...somehow it does. It still matters.

In an effort to tune out Cassie berating Figgins and various McKinley staff members, Dave does something almost as monumentally stupid as driving through the night from Westerville to DC.

He checks his Facebook page.

It's kind of like this whole blurting thing he's got going on – he keeps doing stuff representative of the phrase 'shoot yourself in the foot'. He braces himself, expecting the worst and trying not to hope that it won't be.

His Wall is littered with _dude, where the crap are you's_ from Friday that quickly become _hey asshat, text back_ and _WTF man why is your phone off?_

He scours his page, looking for signs of angry capslocked messages outside of _DUDE. TEXT. THE HELL. BACK._ or any mention of fag, fairy, traitor, etcetera.

Fifteen minutes later he's puzzled to find nothing of the kind.

Its...weird.

Then he clicks his friend list, and all the air goes out of the room.

He can't find Zee.

He should be at the top of his list, but he's not. Dave even uses the search bar, but he's not there.

Feeling sick and shaky, he goes to the site-wide search bar at the top of the page and types Azimio Adams.

_Azimio only shares some profile information with everyone. If you know Azimio, __add him as a friend__._

Zee...Zee de-friended him.

Intellectually, he knows this shouldn't be a big deal. It's just freaking Facebook, right? But, there's something horrifically _deliberate_ about the action. Zee actually took the time to log on, find him and go _remove Dave from your friends list OK_.

It's stupid, and it's petty, and it feels like being punched in the stomach.

Ignoring the messages and notifications sitting in his inbox, he logs off and goes to play with Nyla. She's on the living room floor with her Duplo set again, and when he sits down with her she holds out the little Duplo boy and says, "Dave!"

The plastic figurine has a permanent smile on his tiny plastic face.

Dave is kind of jealous.

* * *

><p>"You're kidding."<p>

There's a pause, which is probably Finn shaking his head before he realizes Kurt can't see the action.

A second later he says, "Uh, no. Not kidding. For real, bro, this is super serious. I mean, no one de-friended me even after I joined Glee."

"So, for Azimio to do this...?"

"Its huge, dude. Whatever happened with them must've really pissed him off."

Kurt chews his lip, aware that Blaine is sending him concerned looks from the other end of the couch. He tries giving him a reassuring smile, but this only appears to alarm Blaine more.

"Hey, Kurt?" asks Finn.

"Yeah?"

"What makes you think it was Azimio that de-friended Karofsky?"

Most of the time, Finn is just as dim as he appears to be, but there are rare and precious occasions where he is shocking perceptive. Kurt kind of hates that now is one of those times.

"I – I don't really know," Kurt tries.

There's another pause, and this time he's pretty sure Finn is glowering and wishing Kurt could see it. Kurt feels himself flush and squirm. Finn takes the whole brothers thing very seriously, which makes lying to him awkward and upsetting. And in cases like this, difficult.

"Dude," Finn says solemnly, "what's up?"

Kurt whines a little. "What makes you think there's something up?"

"I'm not the brightest guy, but I'm not stupid," Finn says, sounding worryingly like Burt. "I mean I get you wondering why the hell Karofsky just up and left – everyone is – and it's weird that he and Azimio aren't friends on F-book anymore, but it doesn't explain how you seem to _know_ that it was _Azimio_ ditching _Karofsky_ and not the other way 'round."

"I don't know that's how it was," Kurt hedges. "I just...have a strong sense that that's how it happened."

"Why?"

"...It's not really for me to say. I mean, it's not my secret."

"Is this about Karofsky being gay?"

Kurt just about has an aneurysm.

"What?" he squeaks, jumping like he's been stung.

Blaine turns and stares at him, dark eyes wide with surprise. He mouths 'what's happened?' and closes a warm hand over Kurt's ankle where it rests on his lap. Kurt gulps and shakes his head, mouthing back, 'tell you later.'

"You didn't know?" Finn quizzes him.

"No – no, I – I mean, yes, I knew, I just didn't know... I thought it was just me that knew. Wait," he adds, suspicious, "how do _you_ know?"

He pictures Finn shrugging. "Well, I mean the guy never dates and he nearly punched out a few of the guys when they called him gay. And me, that one time. And he was mean to you and Rachel's tall dad once told me that extreme homophobia is, like, the most common cover for someone who's afraid of their own sexuality or whatever. It all just kinda fits, y'know?"

"I – well, yeah." Kurt boggles a little. Finn is really on the ball today. "When you put it like that... God, how can no one else have put this together?"

"I dunno. I guess...no one really cared enough to wonder about it?"

"Finn. That's really sad."

"Right? I can't imagine my life sucking that much. Even with the whole baby thing with Quinn I still hand a bunch of people who cared about me enough to ask what was going on in my head. And it sucked being on the outs with Puck all that time. Hey, Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

Finn's voice has gone soft and kinda sad. "You remember the half-time show?"

Kurt lets out a soft laugh and let's himself slip down, lounging more fully on the couch. He pillows his head on the armrest he has been leaning against and drifts his gaze across the senior commons elegant vaulted ceiling.

"How could I forget?" he murmurs, smiling as Blaine resettles his Calc homework over Kurt's shins.

"You remember what he did?"

"...yeah."

Of course he does. Even now, he can see it playing over in his mind's eye; Karofsky bolting onto the field and filling a previous cavity in the rear line of dancers, beaming and still pulling on his football shirt. He'd never seen the guy so _honestly_ happy. He'd let himself hope for a second...

"Well, I didn't tell you then 'cause I didn't want you to freak out, but the next day I asked him to join Glee. I said he'd have to come say sorry to you first, but... Kurt, dude, when he was performing with us he was _happy_," Finn says, earnest and sad and unconsciously mirroring Kurt's thoughts, "and I totally thought he would want to join or whatever...but he just freaked out. Said one good thing didn't change all the crap that came with being in Glee. And, I dunno, but...they way he got all pissed about it, it was like he wasn't just talking about Glee. S'when I started putting it together, anyway."

Kurt sighs. "Now I feel kind of bad."

"Uh, why?"

"Well, you put figured him out all on your own and it took me getting...um..."

"Kurt." Finn's doing that unconscious impression of his father again. Damn him. "Bro," he says, with the air of someone poking a bear with a stick, "how do _you_ know about Karofsky being gay?"

"Uh...I have awesome gaydar?"

"Not gonna lie, that sounded like a question, dude."

"I'm not going to get out of this, am I?"

"You kinda walked right into it, so no. Fess up. Uh...unless it's, like, really traumatic or something..."

"Not..._really_ traumatic."

"Oh, God, what happened?"

Kurt really appreciates the concern in his step-brothers voice. "It – okay, it wasn't the worst thing that happened, okay? It was kind of the tip of the iceberg, really."

"Kurt, seriously, what happened?"

"He – ugh – he kissed me."

Blaine's hand convulses around Kurt's ankle, and the look the other boy shoots him is...it just makes Kurt want to crawl into Blaine's lap and be cuddled forever, okay, and God, could this crush be any more tragic?

He offers Blaine a weary, 'don't worry about me' smile and listens to Finn having a full on freak out.

"...that crap is NOT COOL, man!" Finn finishes, wrath replacing sympathy for the displaced Karofsky. "I can't believe he – God, that is so messed up!"

"I've had time to think about it," Kurt says, liking how level he can keep his head about The Incident these days, "and I've come to the conclusion that it wasn't actually about me. I mean, I was just there at the time and pushing all the wrong buttons for him. I think...I think he didn't really have the words so he –"

"What, found another way to use his mouth to tell you?" Finn says hotly.

Kurt has the irrational urge to laugh and a giggle escapes before he can muffle it. Blaine raises one prodigious eyebrow at him while Finn squawks, "It's not funny!"

"No, no I know," Kurt says, still snorting a little, "but... you know how you asked him to apologise to me? Well, he did. The night he left, he came and said sorry for everything, including that kiss. He really meant it, too. I...I wouldn't know for sure unless I saw him again, but I don't know that I'm afraid of him anymore. When he left that night I was actually more afraid _for_ him."

"Huh...do you think he's okay?"

Kurt swallows. His throat hurts again and his eyes are stinging a little. "I don't know," he murmurs.

There's another pause, Kurt can practically hear the cogs turning in Finn's brain and then his brother announces, "I sent him a message on Facebook."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You know, just saying let me know if you're alive and okay and whatever. I mean there's stuff all over his Wall asking what the hell is going on, but no one's asked if he's okay, so..."

Kurt's eyes sting a little more. "Finn, that's –" he wants to say 'sweet' but changes tack at the last minute "– really awesome of you." See, he's getting better at this whole talking-to-straight-boys thing.

"Thanks," Finn says, obviously pleased.

They chatter for a little while longer before Finn begs off with "Holy crap, dude, how long have we been on the phone? Mom's going to kill me when the bill comes in..." and Kurt laughs at him. They say their goodbyes, and Kurt spends the next half hour filling Blaine in on the whole thing while they go over their homework together. Blaine tells him he's handling this all really well, that he's gotten so much stronger than the boy who first set foot in Dalton and that Blaine's proud of him.

Kurt thinks, _shut up and kiss me you fool_, then feels kind of silly about it.

Later, just before lights out in the dorms, he's not thinking about Finn or Blaine at all, though.

He's looking at a Facebook page and the cursor hovering over _Add As Friend_.

Then he shakes his head, logs out and closes the laptop's lid.

Not now. Not now but maybe...

Maybe later.


	4. Close For Comfort

**Pairing(s):** Dave/Kurt is endgame… if I can ever get this fucker of a fic to behave.

**Rating:** PG, might change later

**Warnings:** OC's. Wikipedia/_Mighty Ducks_ movie based knowledge of hockey. Clones (well, one). Homophobia. Violence (look, it's an angry girl with a stick, but she feels like someone you should warn people about).

**Spoilers:** Let's go with up to _Sexy._

**CROSSOVER:** Stargate (spoilers for Atlantis and SG-1) but this is a Glee-centric fic, and if there's Stargate specific stuff it's not going to be mind-blowing. Worst comes to the worst, head over to one of the SG wiki's or ask me.

**Summary:**

_Dave only shares some profile information with everyone. If you know Dave, __add him as a friend__._

"Screw it," Kurt murmurs, and clicks.

**Chapter 4/? – Close for Comfort**

_I can't remember last time I thanked you,  
>Keeping my distance unintentionally.<br>Too close for comfort, just ain't close enough.  
>If I could have more time we would brainstorm.<em>

Dave Dobbyn - Loyal

Colorado Springs at first glance is just how Dave left it last summer. Pikes Peak still rises behind downtown, a stone-boned sleeping giant with snow scraped across its spine and shoulders. The mountains are distant, deep grey and blue; not close enough to touch, but maybe to smell – there's the scent of the city, the car exhaust and concrete and people, but the air remembers its heritage, and under all that urban chaos is mountain-breath, clean and pale and earthy.

Dave rides shotgun in Jack's old truck with the window down and that memorable air blowing over his face and arms. Just like the apartment in DC was becoming a safe place, Colorado Springs already is, and truthfully, Dave's glad to be back.

Beside him, Aunt Sam is driving, and he can feel her occasionally glancing over at him, smiling fondly. The hug he got at the airport was a strong one; she's really missed him since he was here last summer. It makes him smile, too, and wonder if she's still restoring the Harley they worked on then. He wonders, a little dreamily, if she would let him use one of her bikes to go back and forth to school on, since he's left his truck in DC. There's a brief flash of fantasy; that he could drive up to that theoretical new school on Sam's Indian in a leather jacket and just automatically be cool again.

He closes his eyes, puts his face into the wind and wonders if you can actually be gay in high school and be cool. He wonders if this is something he should know, and then gets a little irritated that he's going to be living in…in this category of people that he knows so little about, and wonders if he can get away with just being Dave and being gay at the same time. After all, isn't that what Carl said? That he's just Dave and that he's always been this way anyway; that he doesn't have to change?

It's something to hold onto.

He puts one hand out the window, and feels the air beating like a bird's wings against his palm, slipping through his fingers.

Something to hold onto.

* * *

><p>"…and this is your room."<p>

Dave drops his duffle just inside the doorway and peers around. "Didn't this use to be Carl's home gym?"

"What's your point?" Cassie asks.

"Well…where's he going to work out now?" Dave says, smiling a little. "Won't he be crushed he can't go for a run and watch _I Dream of Jeanie_ re-runs at the same time?"

"He'll just have to get a membership like the rest of us sad-sack civvies," Cassie says with a dry smile. "Now look, what do you think of the colours in here? We wanted to keep it pretty neutral, but if you want to repaint at any point, just say the word." She frowns at the bare cream walls. "Also, please put something on the walls. This is just sad."

Dave straightens from tipping his stuff out of his duffle and onto the bed. "Like what?"

"Y'know, posters and stuff. Something, okay, otherwise it looks like we're keeping you in a little white room."

Dave laughs. The room's not little, or really white. Whatever Carl does for the Air Force they pay him well to do it, and it means he and Cass definitely have the room to take Dave in comfortably. Dave does feel a bit bad about Carl's home gym, but he's thankful they didn't put him in their neatly done up guest bedroom. This way he gets to make this room really, truly his, instead of fighting the existing décor. He doesn't have to work around anything, or worry about messing something up.

He also thinks Cassie-the-psyche-major is well aware of this.

Dave's still thankful for it.

"Colours?" Cass reminds him, eyebrows raised.

Dave shrugs expansively, dropping down on his bed, heedless of the clothes and crap still spread across it. "I like blue."

Cassie tilts her head as he looks at him. "Really?Always pegged you as more of green kind of guy." She offers him a small smile. "Hey."

"Hmm?"

"How're you doing?"

He shrugs again, toeing the duffle bag where it sits at his feet. "'S been a week, y'know? I mean, this time last week I was…"

He was at home. He wonders if he'll ever stop calling it that.

"I thought they'd have called before now, or something. Maybe reacted in some way, when they found out I was moving here."

Cassie's gaze is attentive, but there's no pity there. It makes it easier to talk to her about this stuff. "Just 'cause you didn't see it doesn't mean they didn't react," she reminds him gently.

"Yeah, I know, but… I just thought –" he lets out a short, humourless laugh. "I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe that that would be something that would make them realize? That it'd be a reality check for them?" He shakes his head. "Apparently not."

Cass gives a soft sigh and comes and sits next to him, shoulder to shoulder. "I am not psychic."

Dave gives her a look. "Uh, okay?"

She smiles. "My point is I don't know what's going to happen in the future. I can help you plan for it, but I have no idea how things will turn out."

"This must be a terrible trial for you."

"Yes, it's deeply trying, but somehow I survive." This time she gives him a look. "Thing is, they could come around tomorrow, which would be great. We'd miss you, but we'd all be ecstatically happy for you. On the other hand…"

Dave sobers. "It could take them…a while." He swallows. "Years."

Cass sighs. "Yeah. I want you to hope for the best, Dave, but I don't want you to be heartbroken when it doesn't happen."

Dave nods. "You want me to be realistic."

"I want you to focus on now, and I want you to focus on finding yourself."

Dave blinks at her. Then he grins. "Oh my god."

"What?"

"Uncle Jack warned me you would do this."

"Do what, Dave?"

"Head shrink me," he says, still grinning.

Cassie throws up her hands in mock frustration. "I'm not trying to head shrink you, you dork! I just –" She huffs and does some toe-scuffing of her own. "Look, I know you were having some trouble at your old school."

Dave chews his lip. "Yeah. It was…hard. I mean, at McKinley you couldn't really…" He sighs. "Coming out didn't feel like an option," he murmurs, "not for me, anyway. I could barely even admit that I was…gay. And that kinda made me really, uh, angry."

He closes his eye briefly. This is the first time he's talked about all of it. It's like something's coming loose inside of him, rattling around before gently expanding. It feels like breathing.

"I did some stuff I'm not proud of," he continues quietly. "I did some stuff to people. One kid in particular."

Cass asks, "Wanna talk about it?"

Dave shifts, feeling inexplicably restless. "Not now, 'kay? I mean, yeah, I know I have to at some point but…now it's still kinda…raw."

She nods and they sit in comfortable quiet for a little while, Cass with a thoughtful look on her face and Dave wondering why he could never discuss this with everyone else who cared about him. With Cass it's easy, and with Uncle Jack it's easy, even though he knows that beyond certain members of his patchworked family Jack is a taciturn old bastard when it comes to the whole feeling-feelings stuff. It's not as easy with Carl, but he makes up for it by being so laid back and Aunt Sam is just too logical for prejudice and too passionate to let things like that just be, so he knows at some point they're going have a talk.

Briefly, he lets him entertain the idea of responding to the one message in his Facebook account that he hasn't deleted, beyond telling Finn that he's still breathing.

He shakes it away though.

Maybe. Another time. Later.

"So, blue right?" Cass says, apropos of nothing.

"Uh, yeah."

She nods again, still looking thoughtful.

"I think we need to go shopping."

* * *

><p>It feels kind of traitorous to think it, but getting settled in Colorado Springs is stupidly easy.<p>

He's always liked it because Uncle Jack is here, but now there's Cass and Nyla and Carl and Sam… And Daniel will be back soon – which is actually potentially awkward, for Dave anyway; way back before he really realized he was gay, about when he was eleven, Dave met Daniel for the first time when they'd come up to the Springs for Jack's birthday (Jack was mortified at the amount of fuss that was made, but couldn't exactly send them all away again).

Daniel was typically kind and smiling and patient with the chubby pre-teen that followed him around asking a thousand and one questions and insisted on sitting with him through dinner. All the adults smiled and called it a touch of hero worship, but Dave is old enough and wise enough now to know this was probably his first ever actual crush on a guy.

"It's okay," Cass tells him after he's blurted all this out in reaction to her innocent question of, 'so, looking forward to seeing the rest of the family?' "Danny was my first crush too. I mean, God, who _wouldn't_ crush on him?" Followed by a slightly dreamy look off to one side as though picturing Daniel in that general direction. Dave has to laugh.

He manages to drag Aunt Sam along on his and Cassie's shopping spree, ostensibly for the purpose of getting things for Dave's room. Cassie of course goes a little power-mad in Home Depot/Pottery Barn/any furnishing shops she can get into before they can head her off. It becomes clear very early on that Sam and Dave are just along for the ride and to give occasional opinions. _Yes, that blue is fine, no not that sheet set, I like that desk but not this bookshelf, Cass, when am I ever going to need a trophy case?_

Cass blinks over her shoulder at Dave where he and Sam are sitting on a futon in the latest in a long line of furniture shops.

"You're not joining the hockey team?" she asks, all innocence. "At your new school, I mean."

"I was on the football team, Cass."

"Well, yeah," Sam says, "but you used to love hockey."

Dave frowns. "I still do, but… I quit at McKinley 'cause…"

Because the hockey team was dirt on the popularity ladder – football was where the power was.

But Dave didn't love football.

When he looks back up from his curled hands, Sam is smiling at him, and Cassie is smirking.

Dave squirms a little under their combined knowing gaze. "I'll see," he allows.

"Only if you want to," Sam agrees, putting an arm around his shoulder.

Dave looks up at a hopeful Cassie. "We're still not getting the damn trophy case, Cass."

* * *

><p>That night, after they've packed away the DIY supplies for the coming weekend and set up some of Dave's new furniture, Dave settles in the den with the family, all of them chatting and half-heartedly watching Simpsons re-runs with takeout boxes covering the coffee table in the aftermath of dinner. Nyla has just been carted off for her bath, protesting 'no, Da, want lellow!'<p>

"Lellow?" Dave asking, looking up from his laptop. The forward most browser tab is filled with the website for his new school…but the one behind it houses his Facebook page. He's been careful to keep his FB-chat offline, but there's a new message in his inbox, taunting him.

He feels like he's hiding.

Cassie is rolling her eyes. "She means 'yellow'," she says, and points at the TV, where Homer has just taken a header over Bart's skateboard. "You're a terrible influence on my child, Jack O'Neill."

Uncle Jack just smirks over his box of black bean beef and is totally unrepentant.

Dave smiles, but goes back to his laptop, Facebook continuing to mock him.

To answer or not to answer…

He thinks of Kurt Hummel's anxious eyes. _"Good luck…"_

He opens his inbox and hits reply on Finn's message.

* * *

><p><em>I'm okay. Staying with my uncle's family in Colorado Springs. Not coming back to Lima.<em>

_Thanks Finn._

"That's it?"

"That's it," Finn says, and turns his laptop to Kurt to prove it.

Kurt puts his coffee down and reads the message sitting in his brother's FB inbox. Then he reads it again, and again.

It's deeply unsatisfying. When he drove from up from Westerville to see Finn for coffee and Karofsky-gossip, he'd expected something a little more…closure-y.

And now his vocabulary is suffering.

"Dude. With the frowny face," Finn says, gently prodding Kurt's wrinkled forehead.

Kurt sighs and flicks Finn's hand away. "I just…I mean, how can that be it? Surely there's more to what happened."

Finn shrugs and then says sensibly, "Yeah. But why would he tell me that? We're not really friends, y'know? I mean we _are_, but its _Facebook_."

Kurt huffs, feeling a little hard done by. He's invested a lot of thought in David Karofsky now that he'll probably never see him again. The irony kind of bites. He doesn't even know this boy that well, and up until a week ago, never laying eyes on him again would have made Kurt deliriously happy – and yet now, his continued existence is…very important.

Yeah, Kurt doesn't get it either.

Blaine kind of does – or he seemed to when Kurt talked to him about it, but he was wary, too.

"It's not weird," he reassured Kurt, who sat fretting on his bed. "It's compassionate. It's a good thing, Kurt, it's part of being a good person – which you are." He smiled, and Kurt melted, but kind of distractedly. "Just…"

"Just what?"

Blaine's smile turned rueful. "Don't name the puppy, okay?"

"…I'm sorry?" Kurt stared at him. "What puppy?"

"Karofsky."

One of Kurt's eyebrows flicked up. "Alright if we're going to equate him with a canine lets pick an appropriate one, shall we?"

Blaine chuckled. "Okay, don't name the Rottweiler then. Look, all I'm saying is, don't get too attached. It's great that you care but…he's not your problem anymore, Kurt."

And yet, thinking about it now, re-reading that message for the eighth time, Kurt thinks that maybe Blaine _doesn't_ get it. Not really. Karofsky did more than just apologise when he came to Dalton that night; somehow, he became unignorable to Kurt. Once the fear was gone…curiosity took its place. Concern, even.

Now, if Kurt could only figure out _how_ that happened…

"Should I reply?"

…or, for that matter, what to _do_ about it.

Kurt looks back at Finn, coming back to himself a little. The sounds of the coffee shop filter back to him. "I don't know," he murmurs. "I kind of think…" Finn looks at him questioningly when Kurt trails off. Kurt attempts a smile. "It's just…if you reply…is it really just you replying, or should I be putting my name to it too, y'know?"

Finn nods slowly. "So add him."

Kurt stares at him. "What?"

"If you want to talk to him, add him," Finn says again, like it's the _completely logical option_, which…

…which it is.

Crap.

Kurt's getting a little worried by all these wildly insightful moments Finn's accumulating. And now he's giving Kurt one of those deep, meaningful looks – which Kurt thinks he might _actually_ have learnt from Burt – one of the ones that says he knows Kurt knows the answer, he's just waiting for Kurt to click onto it. This is unnerving, because the situation is usually reversed. But the whole situation is screwy so maybe…

"Of for crying out loud, alright!" Kurt says, a little grouchily, and tugs the laptop towards him, quickly logging Finn out and logging onto his own account.

"Only do it if you want to," Finn says mildly, and smiles when Kurt glowers at him.

Then he looks back at his own page…and pauses. He takes a moment to wonder how this will look to everyone who sees his news feed – what the reactions of his friends will be when they see Kurt trying to add David Karofsky to their ranks. He wonders what Dave's friends will think when they see it.

He wonders what will happen if Dave hits 'accept'.

_Dave only shares some profile information with everyone. If you know Dave, __add him as a friend__._

"Screw it," Kurt murmurs, and clicks.

He wonders what Dave will make of it, and wishes he could see the guy's face when he next checks his inbox.

* * *

><p>This whole situation is deeply weird.<p>

Its Monday – he's been in the Springs for a little less than four days, out of home for just over a week – and the woman who will become his new school principal is gazing at him with elegantly made up eyes over a huge and shiny mahogany desk.

When they first walked in, it had been kind of jarring. The rest of H.G. Wells Comprehensive – 'Higwell Comp' when it's at home – is modern and smooth and just as shiny as Principal Garnet's desk deity. It wasn't always like this; Cass gave him a quick tour before their appointment with Garnet, and spent much of the time saying things like "and this used to be the home ec department, only it was way smaller and there were birds nesting in the ceiling" or "that's where I used to have math, but the heating in here works now."

Dave shook his head at her, disbelieving. "Uncle Jack and Aunt Sam let you stay here? I mean, it sounds so…crappy."

"Oh, the facilities were," Cassie said blithely, "but the education was _bangin'_. What? Don't give me that look, David, I'm twenty-three, I can be hip and down with it."

The smooth and shiny-ness stops once you get through those office doors however. In Garnet's office, slick and up-to-the-minute – _utilitarian_ – becomes elegant and _rich_. It's old world, or an old world expression of good money. The whole school has had fuckloads spent on it; it went bankrupt six years ago…and then out of nowhere appeared Margeaux Garnet; young, monied, beautiful and…a professional model.

No, _really_.

Dave has no idea why a _model_, of all people, would take over a financially nose-diving arts academy, become its principal and hurl a Swiss bank account at it…but then no one else can fathom it either.

So now, Dave is sitting across from this stunning woman, who looks back at him with her perfect, dreamy blue eyes and says serenely, "It's so lovely to meet you, David. Of course, we'll be happy to have you here at HG Wells." She smiles at him add, totally guileless, "You're gay, aren't you?"

Dave blinks at her, thrown, and stutters out, "Uh, ye-yeah. I just came out…"

"Oh, lovely," says Principal Garnet, "me too." Then, before Dave can even process this, "you'll be joining the GSA, of course, Carlo will be delighted to have you. And I'll have to get Matthew to introduce you to the Arc, you might like it there, too…"

And on she goes, single-handedly carrying on a conversation about the seemingly endless extra-curricularity of Higwell Comp while Dave sits back and thinks:

_What the hell have I gotten myself into?_

He has no way of knowing it, but this is just the beginning.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Kind of a filler chapter, I know, but I promise shit will actually start to happen in the next one. Seriously, I'm getting ready to straight-up murder this fic if it doesn't settle down and start behaving. I don't even know what happens to my brain when I write this…


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